Fritz
by The Elusive Cryptic
Summary: Ivy Grimsley has always loved mysteries, and when she's forced to move back into town with her father and is reunited with a certain Stiles Stilinski, she's thrown into one that delves deeper into her own life than she imagined. (S1-S3B)
1. Season 1: Chapter 1

**I'm hoping to send this story through season 3B. Reviews are appreciated. **

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**Season 1: Chapter 1**

It was raining when Ivy Grimsley's bus pulled into Beacon Hills. The cars outside were dark with only the headlights providing any wet, blurry proof that they'd existed. The very few people out in the rain were holding umbrellas to cover their heads and looked somewhat odd, brightly colored sheets above dark figures in the navy night, wandering in the desolate and lonely roads. Ivy liked to watch out the window during the rain, it was somewhat comforting: the waterfall effect. And the way the lights shone through were nice as long as they weren't LEDs.

It took only twenty minutes to get to the bus station. She took the only possessions she'd brought with her from the bus and sat on the bench, sighing to herself and pulling out Arthur Conan Doyle. It must've been the sixth time she'd read the story and been impressed with the fictional character Sherlock Holmes.

'Hopefully there's something to do here,' Ivy thought, imagining how awkward it would be trying to exchange a conversation with a man she'd only known as 'Dad' for barely three years. She couldn't recall ever seeing him since.

Apparently, Ivy's parents had only gotten along for a short time. She'd always overheard conversations from her aunts about there being another man, but she'd always get caught when she eavesdropped and had never gotten anything further. The other rumor she'd gotten from her older cousins were laughs about her father embarrassing himself in front of the college he'd worked at and her mother being utterly ashamed.

With all the gossip Ivy had heard over family dinners, she could never tell which was true.

She pulled her sweater over her fingers, shivering at the chill passing through as people walked by.

"Ivy?"

She almost dropped her book in surprise. She assembled herself and looked up, seeing a man standing before her. He looked as if he could've been attractive in his younger years, but now he was worn down with green eyes and graying hair with a hint of a beer gut.

"Yes?"

"It's me," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, "Uh…"

"Dad?" She finished for him, though it came out as a question.

"Oh, yes," he nodded, "I haven't seen you in so long."

Ivy smiled politely, though it only seemed to intensify the sadness in his eyes. She stopped and looked down at her things. "I…haven't seen you…either."

She closed her book and waited for him to say something else, but you cut the tension with a knife.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally offered up an, "Would you like to go ho-…see where you'll be staying?"

Ivy nodded, and picked up a suitcase, her father grabbing the other two.

The ride home was even worse, the radio knocked out by the rain. It was just a quiet ride to a house she'd never seen before with a man she felt she'd never really get used to calling 'Dad'.

The house was nice enough, cleaned and welcoming.

"I cleared out the guest room for you," Her father informed. "There's a bed and a dresser, but I figured you would want to decorate yourself."

Ivy felt it translated to: "I hardly know you and have no idea what you like."

"Thanks," She said.

There was the sound of glass breaking and a woman swearing.

"Everything alright in there?" Her father called.

"Yes, Mr..." The woman paused as she walked out of the kitchen, spying Ivy by the door. "Is this your daughter?"

"Yes," he said. "Ivy, this is Clara Stryder. She's the housekeeper. Clara this is Ivy."

Clara was a shorter, curvier woman who appeared to be in her early thirties with a blonde ponytail, rosy cheeks and warm brown eyes.

"It's nice to meet you," Clara said, holding out her hand.

"You, too," Ivy smiled.

"Clara, if you could show her to her room, that'd be great." Her father said.

Clara put her hands on her hips, as if disappointed in him, "Alright; this way."

As Ivy followed her up the stairs with her suitcases in tow, Clara started talking to her, "Don't worry about him, he's been worrying about you coming up all week. You know, with you two having no contact for twelve years and all."

"Huh-ha, yeah," Ivy said, "It's a little, you know, weird."

Clara pursed her lips in a tight smile and opened a white door to reveal a neat room. It had a bed by a window with a window-seat adorned with plain white sheets and two pillows. There was a dresser by a small closet that appeared to be in okay shape and a full length mirror leaning against a just beside that. A cute little nightstand sat by the bed with a little red lamp.

"This is yours," Clara said, pointing out the obvious, "The bathroom is at the end of the hall."

And with that, she headed for the door.

"Thanks fo-," Ivy sighed as Clara disappeared. "Never mind."

She pressed a hand to the mattress to see what it felt like, then face-planted into the soft white material, groaning to herself.

This particular adjustment would be hard.


	2. Season 1: Chapter 2

**Season 1: Chapter 2**

The next day was dark and dreary; clouds covering every inch of the sky. Ivy didn't mind really, it kept the sun out of her eyes when she woke up still face-down on her bed.

She groaned to herself and pulled herself up further onto the bed, resting her head on the pillow. After twenty more minutes of sleep, Ivy shoved her legs over the side of the bed, then decided to lay like that for about five more minutes before fully getting up and going downstairs.

"Hello?" She asked, looking around the corner to the kitchen, "Anyone home?"

The kitchen was nice, with a little island table and a stainless steel fridge. She looked inside and pulled out some blueberries and orange juice, seeing a note on the door when she closed it:

_ Went to work, make yourself at home. –Dad_

Ivy sighed and finished her small breakfast, exploring the house afterwards.

It was nothing special really, just like how you'd expect a house to look like. There were at least three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a medium sized living room, and a front door just behind it.

Also, there was nothing to do. She couldn't figure out to work the universal remote and was too lazy to click through the channels. It only tempted her to explore even further and the only interesting thing she'd found were books on legends on lycanthropes and shape-shifters. The books were very strange, holding old pictures of beasts with red eyes. Ivy found herself caught in them, even carrying them into the kitchen while looking for lunch. On the third book she'd picked a pack of cigarettes tumbled from behind.

Did he smoke? And if he did, why would they be behind the books?

Ivy decided to put them back, a couple more books behind, settling back on the couch to finish reading.

* * *

Ivy couldn't tell how long it'd been until her father walked back inside, seeing her on the couch reading the books he'd grown to loathe.

"What are you reading?" He asked, a rigid tone to his voice.

She jumped, noticing the attitude in his voice, "Just some books, I found. They were, uh...on the shelves. By...the...by that," Ivy turned to gesture to it, then sighed, finishing, "wall."

He looked at them with a heavy demeanor, studying the rack, then turning to Ivy, "I haven't read those books in such a long time."

She nodded, setting the book on the couch and pulling her sweater over her fingers, confused about his behavior towards the books. They were only books, anyways.

"Is Clara coming over?" Ivy asked.

"Clara doesn't work on Sundays. She only comes over on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but that's usually during the day so you won't notice her often," he told her. "And I hope you remember that school starts tomorrow. You have everything, don't you?"

She face-palmed and sighed: "Ugh! No. I'll go...check upstairs."

He almost chuckled, "Tell me if you need anything."

"I will," Ivy called, skipping steps to her bedroom.

It was a hassle, digging through the boxes that had been delivered during the afternoon, but she finally found a book bag she'd kept from the earlier year.

"It'll have to do," she whispered to herself, mining through the cardboard again.

The rest of the search was a bust, almost nothing school-related to be found.

Ivy sat back on the bed, groaning to herself, then getting up and calling, "I still need some things!"

"Do you know what you need?" Her father asked.

"I think so, yes," she replied, sitting down at the table and making a list from the sharpie and post-it notes. "Not that much, just notebooks and pens and book covers and I think still have that calculator from last year but I'll have to check. I have a backpack, too, so that's covered."

Her father chuckled for the first time since she'd met him, and it was startling sound, somewhat familiar, but seeming so far away.

"What?" She asked.

"Your mother used to ramble to herself when she made shopping lists."

"Oh," she said, sinking down in her chair. Then, quietly, she added, "I guess I never really noticed."

He nodded, and it was silent for a minute. An awkward minute after hearing what seemed like a stranger talking about what her mother used to be like.

Finally, he interrupted to ask, "Think you should go to the store and get them?"

Ivy nodded slowly, then stood up and studied the list, "Yeah, I should go get them before school starts."

"You want to borrow the car?"

"Could I?"

He dug the keys from his pocket and tossed them to her, "Make sure you have your license."

"Yeah, I got it," She told him, grabbing her purple pea coat and buttoning it up. She brushed out the wrinkles; the coat must've at least gone down to her knees.

"Drive safe," he said quietly.

Ivy answered: "I will."

* * *

"Should've asked where the store was," Ivy whined to herself while another driver honked from behind her in agitation.

Ivy thought herself one of the greatest examples of the "Women Can't Drive" stereotype. And just when she thought things couldn't get worse, rain started thundering against her windshield, making everything blurry.

The agitated driver decided to go past her, a crappy blue jeep flying across the road.

"What a dick," Ivy whispered under her breath. From the looks of that jeep, she didn't think it would last much longer anyways.

After about twenty more minutes of aimless driving along the trees, a tire blew out; then another.

Ivy slammed on the brakes, swerving halfway into the middle of the road, squealing two tires against the tar while she tried not to hit any defenseless animals about the road.

"You've got to be kidding me," She said, looking at the rearview mirror. Something big and black slinked across the road. She grabbed the windshield scraper from the back seat.

The road was actually slippery when she jumped out, holding her coat over her head to inspect the damage: a huge gash through each of the tires, almost all of one of them scattered across the road in pieces or rubber.

"Oh, I'm gonna die when I get home. I'm so-"

Ivy jumped, standing up as a growl let loose from somewhere in the trees.

"Hello?" She called, then even quieter: "_Anyone out there_?"

She pulled the coat back over her shoulders, and ducked behind the car, gripping the windshield scraper until her knuckles turned white.

Ivy crept behind the window, trying to see through to the other side. A black bump skulked up from behind it, getting taller and taller. It slid across the windows with frightening grace, a black paw or hand rising to slide its fingers along the window, its nails growing taller and sharper until they made a horrible screeching noise as they slid across the glass. Ivy covered her ears and sank back, hiding her face from its view. She put a hand over her mouth and listened as its breathing got heavier and more beastly, until she could see its breath emanating like smoke in the cold, being separated by the falling water.

She crawled around the headlights, careful not to make a silhouette or even a sound as she tiptoed to the other side, the animal-beast-thing creeping along the side of the car. She looked behind her, seeing the smoky breath again and then lurched across another corner-

-only to come face to face with a gnarling face and a pair of terrifying red eyes.

She screamed, waving her scraper at its face and feeling a collision as she was thrown back against the car. It growled, then whimpered and she could see a shadow lurch into the trees.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and she spun, tossing her scraper into the air again.

"Hey!"

Ivy fell back against the car again, gasping and trying to slow her heart rate as the man she'd hit held the side of his face. A rather good-looking face anyways.

She stood up and held the windshield scraper in her hands, ready to hit him again.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded.

He looked up; glaring at her while he wiped a stream of blood from his eye. There wasn't much of it, just some blotches of red where'd the scraper had collided with his face.

"Me?" He snarled, "What are you doing out here?"

"I asked you first!"

"I saw your car slide across the road," he answered, irritated.

"Well," She let the scraper fall ever so slightly, "I was...driving."

He scoffed, "Yeah."

Ivy let the scraper drop to her side, reaching up to move his hand so she could inspect the damage. He just batted her hand away. She rolled her eyes at him, "Would you let me look for a second?"

He dropped his hand reluctantly, letting her move his hair out of the big cut. As she moved the last blood-soaked hair aside, he wavered. Ivy grabbed his shoulders, the scraper tumbling.

"You might want to lean against the car," she advised. "Uh...sorry I hit you. It's just...there was this...big animal-thing. Looked like the freaking Wolfman."

He looked up at her sharply, "The Wolfman?"

"More or less."

He nodded, "Probably the thing that slashed your tires."

"Why would it slash my tires?" She asked, more to herself than to him.

He shook his head as if asking himself the same thing.

"Here," she muttered, pulling her damp coat sleeve over her hand and pressing it to his head. "Think you'll need stitches?"

"No," he snapped.

"Alright then," she said. "I'm...Ivy, by the way."

He studied her, then answered, "Derek."

"Well, Derek...thanks for stopping to help." She told him, pulling her hand away, "I think it stopped bleeding."

He nodded, pressing his hand against it. When she looked again, it looked like most of the blood was gone anyways.

"You wouldn't happen to have any spare tires, would you?" Ivy asked.

Using the spare tire from her own car and Derek's which was parked down the road a ways, Derek fixed up Ivy's car in almost ten minutes flat.

"Thanks," Ivy told him, holding the leather jacket he'd given her above her head.

"Be careful," Derek said, with his seemingly usual attitude. Ivy handed him the jacket; he put it back on and started walking back to his car.

Ivy watched him go, thinking mostly about how his leather jacket was probably ruined from the rain. Then another thought jumped into her brain.

"Hey, Derek!"

He turned and cocked his eyebrows expectantly.

"Do you know where the store is?"

"You don't know where the store is?" He asked incredulously.

"I just moved here," She responded, throwing some sass right back at him.

He sighed, then pointed to the east, "Go straight, then turn left at Crest Ave. You'll see it."

"Crest...okay, thanks," she said.

He nodded and continued walking to his car.


	3. Season 1: Chapter 3

I'm so sorry about not updating sooner! I've been fighting writer's block and, of course, school. Reviews are appreciated!

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**Season 1: Chapter 3**

School would be a disaster, Ivy could sense it.

It started with waking up twenty minutes late and having no time to curl her hair like she wanted to, so it came out kind of frizzy, as it usually did when she didn't do anything with it. That was one of the easier things to solve, putting it up in a loose bun.

The one thing that would be harder to solve was the tear at the bottom of her bag.

_Hope for the best_, she told herself. It wasn't too big anyways.

After brushing her teeth, she tore through the door and to the bus stop her father had pointed out, since he took the car to work.

The bus stop was just a stop sign that a few elementary students ran to every morning. A few of them were at the cute age, she thought, kindergarteners. A couple fifth graders were there, making dumb jokes to each other. She hoped she wasn't that stupid when she was their age.

The bus was practically full, kids yelling curses at each other while the bus driver tried to tune them out. Ivy spotted a boy sitting with his book bag in the seat next to him and bit her lip, "Could I sit here?"

He looked up with big brown eyes; the rest of him was huge, too. He must've been at least six-foot-five.

"Sure," he answered, moving his book bag to his lap.

"Thanks," she smiled, sitting down and pulling her messenger bag onto her lap.

It was a quiet between the two, but obviously not the rest of the bus. And the seat in front of her had a little preschooler throwing pink glitter into the air and shaking it into her hair, getting some in Ivy's as well. She shook it out best she could and groaned to herself.

"They do that sometimes," the boy next to her commented.

Ivy nodded and brushed some glitter from her bag, "Hopefully not all the time."

He nodded, "Are you new?"

"Yeah, well, sort of. I was here in third grade," she told him.

"I'm Boyd," he said.

"Ivy," she responded.

Ivy was thankful that her bag had held through on the way to the office after getting directions from Boyd. He was nice enough, quiet though.

* * *

She walked in on another student with the secretary, a woman with a high bun with a blonde streak through her bangs.

"There's your schedule, Ms. Argent. The superintendent will be here in just a few minutes."

"Thanks," the girl responded to her.

The secretary spotted Ivy by the door, urging her in: "Come in! You must be...Grislier, am I right?"

"Grimsley," she corrected.

"Ah, yes," she said, digging through a stack of papers, "You have no idea how many kids come in here for schedules on the first day. Interesting name, by the way."

Ivy smiled, "Uh, thank you."

She handed her the schedule and turned back to the student, "You can have a seat."

The student smiled at the secretary then Ivy, who smiled back, "You new, too?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I'm Allison."

"Ivy."

Allison smiled and nodded at the same time, brushing some hair behind her ear. Ivy looked at her schedule and started walking backwards towards the door, "Maybe we'll have some classes together."

"Maybe," Allison agreed.

Ivy bit her lip and spun around, stomping her boots into the floor in agitation at how her voice cracked. Wasn't she supposed to be over that already?

She rubbed her forehead, looking for her locker. Of course, her locker had to be at the other end of the school and the second she made it there, her backpack fell open, sending a now-probably-broken calculator and all the other supplies she'd gotten the night before spiraling to the floor.

Ivy leaned her head against the locker.

"Do you need some help with that?"

"What?" she spun and saw a very attractive boy standing in front of her, "I...Yeah, I guess."

He knelt down and smiled at her as she gathered some supplies up in her arms, the pile of it overflowing in her grip.

"Here, I'll open your locker for you," he said. "What's your combo?"

"Oh, my combo is," she dug in her back pocket for her schedule, "36-28-12."

"36...28...12," he repeated under his breath, opening the locker.

Ivy shoved the stuff in and smiled at him, "Thank you. It's been a really bad way to start the day."

"Not a problem," he smiled.

She remembered that smile, "Danny?"

"Yeah," he answered. "You've heard of me?"

"Yeah, I mean. We used to go to school together...in third grade."

Still, he looked confused. She nodded, "Ivy Grimsley."

"Ivy?" Danny said, trying to make it seem like he remembered her though he obviously didn't.

Ivy nodded, then grabbed the things she needed and closed her locker, "Don't worry about it. I should probably find my classroom."

He nodded back and caught up with another boy down the hall.

Ivy smiled to herself; Danny wasn't so bad looking.

* * *

Stiles sat in the back of the classroom, reading through the syllabus on his desk; he sighed when he finished.

This class was going to suck without Scott.

He slumped, doodling on the syllabus that he couldn't care less for and waiting for his name to be called for roll call.

"Greenberg," called the teacher.

Greenburg, as usual, slammed through the door in the nick of time, "HERE!"

Mr. Westover gave him his usual bitter look and scrolled to the next name.

"Grimsley," he named.

Stiles' head cocked at the name, sitting up straighter and searching the room.

"Here," said a girl. Stiles strained to get a closer look at her since she was sitting rows away at the front of the room. He pressed further forward, grabbing the seat in front of him to pull himself closer. The desk squeaked at the lunge and then tipped forward, sending Stiles' head surging into the seat in front of him.

"Ah!" Stiles rubbed his head.

"Mr. Stilinski!"

"Oh, ah, yes, Mr. Westover," he asked.

"Do you need something?"

"Maybe an icepack," Stiles mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Westover replied.

"Nothing, sorry," Stiles slumped again, finally getting a view of the girl.

Ivy Grimsley; he remembered her perfectly. Of course, she was much better looking now and her hair was longer. He spent the rest of the period leaning on his elbow and staring like a fool.

When the hour finally ended, Stiles had to slam through Greenberg to get to her. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"Stiles, what are you doing?"

"Ah, Dana," he said, biting his lip, "Nothing, just..." He spied her turning the corner and waved at Dana's face, "Thought you were someone else, I'll see yah."

"Bye, Stiles," Dana replied with satire.

Stiles flew through the halls, finally seeing her at her locker. He had to stop himself from ramming her down.

"Ivy!"

"What?" She asked, her eyes wide from the impending collision. "H-hi."

"Hi," he said, "Uh, you might've forgotten about me, it's Stiles."

A grin spread across Ivy's face, "Stiles?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning himself. He eyed her, "You're...taller now."

She smiled at him, "You, too."

"What are you doing back?" Stiles asked, "I thought you went to stay with your mom."

"My mom...yeah," she trailed, "Uh, I just moved in with my dad. He moved here a few years ago."

Stiles nodded, "So you're staying?"

Ivy nodded, "Yeah, I am."

Stiles nodded, noticing the emptying hallways, "That's...That's great," he smiled, "Uh, I better head to class."

"Yeah," Ivy agreed, "Oh, what lunch do you have?"

"First," Stiles replied.

"Great!" Ivy said, "We could sit together."

"Of course," Stiles said, raising his arms. He readjusted his backpack and started to walk backwards towards his next class, "I'll see you...at lunch."

Ivy giggled as he slipped spinning around and shook her head as she closed her locker.

* * *

"Dude," Stiles said, sitting behind Scott in his next class, "I love school so much."

"Why?" Scott spun around.

"Guess who's back?"

"Uh, someone famous," Scott guessed, smiling.

"Man, no," Stiles deadpanned, "Ivy Grimsley."

"Wasn't she the girl you swore you were going to marry in second grade," Scott said. "But everyone called her 'Troll'?"

"She wasn't that bad looking," Stiles defended. "And besides, she's totally hot now."

"Really?" Scott asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, dude," Stiles said, smacking his shoulder.

"Maybe you should ask her out," Scott offered.

"Maybe you should ask out the girl from English you've been drooling over and we can get humiliatingly rejected together."

Scott sighed and slouched back, Stiles doing the same as Coach gave them the stink eye.

"Maybe I should ask her to go to the party with me on Friday," Scott said to Stiles quietly.

"Maybe," Stiles repeated, tapping his pencil on his desk.


	4. Season 1: Chapter 4

It's short, but it's up. Hopefully next one will be longer for you guys. Reviews are appreciated.

* * *

**Season 1: Chapter 4**

Lunch was awkward.

Ivy had no idea where to sit or who to even sit by. She spotted the boy from the bus across the cafeteria and was halfway there before almost bumping into another student. Relief coursed through her as she saw it was Danny.

"Hey, Danny," she mumbled.

"Ivy, yeah?" Danny confirmed, raising a hand to point at her.

"Yeah," she smiled at the fact someone had remembered her name; someone even as good-looking as Danny.

"Hey, you want to sit with us?" He asked, pointing the same finger behind him at a group of kids as attractive as he was. "I can open a seat for you."

"Really," she sighed, "that'd be great, thanks."

Danny smiled and waved her over, setting his tray down and tapping on the table by the seat next to him.

"Guys, this is Ivy," Danny introduced, "she used to go here a while ago."

Ivy smiled and murmured a hello at the condescending eyes of the group. A particular redhead pointed her raised fork at her and creased her perfectly plucked brows, "Weren't you in third grade with us?"

"Second, actually," Ivy corrected, "Ivy...Grimsley."

"Grimsley," the boy next to the redhead echoed in amusement, "Damn, Grimsley, you really grew into that forehead."

Ivy pursed her lips in response, "Thanks, I guess."

"It could just be the bangs," the redhead chirped. "Which, honey, you should get trimmed."

Ivy brushed her bangs down a bit, crumpling into herself. Danny gave her an apologetic look and she smiled back in forgiveness.

"I'm Lydia," the redhead educated, "Lydia Martin. This is Jackson Whittemore."

Jackson nodded his head in response, his hair kept in perfect place while he did. Ivy was almost jealous of his seemingly perfect hair.

"Nice to meet you," Ivy said, inwardly cringing at the looks she'd been getting from the group.

"You, too," Lydia said with fake sincerity. "Are you going to the party Friday?"

"Party?" She ricocheted, looking to Danny for an explanation.

"It's this back-to-school thing that's thrown every year," Danny said, "Open invitation."

Ivy nodded, "Uh, yeah, maybe."

Lydia smiled while Jackson casually lounged back, looking like a complete douche the entire time, in Ivy's opinion.

"Allison!" Lydia called across the cafeteria. "Over here," she patted the table.

The brunette from the office smiled and came to sit down next to Lydia, taking the place of the guy who was sitting next to Lydia.

She sat down and smiled at the group.

As Lydia gave an introduction of the brunette, Ivy slouched in her seat just the faintest bit, scanning the cafeteria. She spotted Stiles walking out from the lunch line, speaking rapidly to a boy in front of him by the quick motion of his lips.

He spotted her staring and gave a quick nod with an awkward, pursed smile. Walking behind the kid with the mop top, he stumbled into a table in his way. The kid in front of him looked back, amused, while Stiles bounced it off and nodded while he continued walking.

Ivy laughed a bit at this, grinning into her milk carton while the rest of the group went on about some school sport.

"You want to come?" Danny asked.

"What?" Ivy inquired, earning some snickers from the table.

"To lacrosse practice," he explained. "You want to come watch?"

"Yeah, that sounds cool," Ivy said.

Danny nodded and gave her a quick smile before turning back to his peers.

* * *

Ivy took a seat on the metal bleachers next to Lydia and Allison, who was much less patronizing to Ivy than Lydia was.

The turnout to the tryouts was surprising. Ivy guessed Lydia and Jackson weren't lying when they bragged of the school's lacrosse team, though the only player that caught her eye was the one with the buzz cut.

"Looking for someone?" Lydia chimed in, a dire glitter in her green eyes.

Ivy smiled at her, "Uh, no. Just watching."

"Mm hmm," Lydia sang.

"Who's that?" Allison asked beside them, pointing to the goalie.

"Him," Lydia rang, "in the goal?"

"Yeah," Allison confirmed.

Lydia considered this for a moment before replying, "I'm not really sure who he is. Why?"

"He's in my English," Allison responded.

Lydia nodded, then turned to Ivy, "You don't really talk much, do you?"

"Personally, I believe silence is a virtue," Ivy retorted.

Allison gave a slight grin, careful not to let Lydia see.

To Ivy's surprise, Lydia grinned herself and countered, "Good advice."

Ivy smiled to herself and caught the goalie catching a shot. Then another shot, and another until Jackson Whittemore stepped up to throw one at him.

The field was silent and every soul in the audience stood at attention, watching; waiting. It seemed almost an eternity until the ball finally flew from the net to be caught by the goalie.

The spectators stood and cheered along with the other players.

* * *

Ivy fumbled with the keys while on the way back to her car with the mismatch wheels. She still had a little trouble explaining that one to her father, but he cut her some slack as soon as she mentioned the giant furry beast. He even asked for a further description, then shook his head in the middle of it and told her she should get some sleep.

She unraveled the key from the loose string on her sweater and accidently clicked a button on it, making the car chirp loudly. Ivy jumped in response and cursed herself for it.

"Hey, Ivy!"

Ivy spun at the enthusiastic call of her name and spun to see Stiles, towing a duffel bag overflowing with lacrosse equipment and a stick hanging off the back of it, dragging along the ground.

"Hey, Stiles," she said with a smile, "What's up?"

"Uh, nothing really, just got back from practice," he nodded. "You?"

"Just got back from watching practice," she said.

Stiles looked up with wide eyes, "Really? You watched?"

"Yeah, uh, Lydia invited me. Well Danny actually, but he...plays," Ivy told him.

"Cool," Stiles said, "Cool, so, uh, you going to that party on Friday?"

Ivy readjusted her book bag and nodded, noticing how slow their pace was now, "Yeah, I think so."

"Awesome," Stiles nodded with a smile, walking up to a blue jeep and unlocking the driver's door. Ivy cocked a brow at the familiar vehicle.

"Yeah," she said, turning back to see his adorably awkward grin. "Maybe I'll see you there."

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles nodded again. He hopped into his jeep, waving to her from inside.

Ivy waved back to him with a smile on her lips.


End file.
